


Whisky and Shortbread

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: Shetland (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: It's Hogmanay, and a new tradition is born when Jimmy Perez goes to Lerwick to make sure Duncan Hunter fulfills a promise.
Relationships: Duncan Hunter/Jimmy Perez
Comments: 39
Kudos: 118
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Whisky and Shortbread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idareu2bme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idareu2bme/gifts).

> idaru2bme, you said you like the quiet tone of the series, so I ran with that, creating quiet moments between Jimmy and Duncan as their relationship evolved. I hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> Thanks for Elizabeth O'Shea and Dorinda for beta, editing, and encouragement. You two are the best!

The year it started, Duncan stood in front of the closed door of the Perez house in Glasgow. He clutched a bottle of whisky; a package of shortbread was stuffed into his coat pocket. Perhaps he didn’t have all of the traditional gifts for the first footer, but he had the important ones. He wished the bloody bells would ring already because he was freezing and he felt like a fool and wished he’d never agreed to come. Which, of course, he hadn’t done but somehow he had, nevertheless, found himself on a plane, and then on another plane, and then in a rental car on icy roads for hours and hours. All because of Jimmy fucking Perez.

_It’s what Cassie needs_.

The words in his head took him back to the pub in Lerwick where he’d been drinking beer and happily—yes, _happily_—planning how he was going to go to Mary’s party without Fiona finding out. And in had walked Jimmy Perez, about the last person he’d expected to see, and Perez had made a beeline for him, which had had him searching his memory for anything he might have done that would have offended Perez or Fran.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, then?” Perez had demanded.

“I’m drinkin’.”

“I can see that with my own eyes and it doesnae answer the question. You’re supposed to be on a plane.”

“What for?”

Perez had just raised his eyebrows. 

“She wasnae serious,” Duncan had protested.

“Fran wants you for Hogmanay, in Glasgow, at our home, so there you’ll be.”

“And you’ve come all this way just for that? Sorry to disappoint.” Duncan had swallowed some of his beer and hoped Perez would take the hint, but of course he hadn’t.

“You promised Fran.”

He had closed his mouth on his first, impulsive words. There was no way he was going down the road of his past record of broken promises with Fran’s current husband. Instead, he had waved his hand and said: “For God’s sake, man, sit down. You’ve giving me a headache. Do you want a drink?”

After a slight hesitation, Perez had sat down at the table. “No, I’m not staying. I’m in Lerwick for another errand altogether and I’m on the next flight home.”

“Police business?”

Perez had ignored that, being the single-minded man he was. “There’s another flight tomorrow morning, or you could go later in the day, but that has two stops and looks to be a wee bit draining since it would take over twenty-four hours.”

“I’ve got plans in Lerwick.” 

“Have you, now? Well, you’ll just have to break ‘em, won’t you. I’m sure whoever it is is used to that from you by now.”

The words had stung, to his annoyance. “You’re very convincing for why I shouldnae go to Glasgow.” 

Perez had sighed. “Yeah, okay. But it’s not me who’s asking, it’s Fran, for Cassie.”

“Cassie? She doesnae want to see me.” The consequence of that last broken promise before her birthday, and he hadn’t yet reckoned on how to mend the breach.

“That was nearly two years ago now. That’s a long time in a young girl’s life. Fran thinks she wants you to visit.” Perez’ voice had changed then: “And, anyway, you’ve got to come to be the first footer. I cannae do that, not with my hair. It’d be bad luck, you know. You wouldnae want that on your— Well, for her, now, would you?”

“So I’m to be the dark haired stranger, is that it?” He had meant it to sound light, appreciative of the effort Perez was making, but his throat had tightened on the words for some reason.

Perez had looked at him, and being the recipient of that gaze had felt like being on the other side of an interrogation table. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d also been unable to turn away. “She’ll know you,” Perez had told him, with a nod for emphasis. “But, fair enough if you are something of a stranger. You can make that our fault, if you like. The point is, you need not always be.”

And, somehow, he had found himself saying words he’d never meant to say: “She doesnae need me. She has you.” He had looked away then, not wanting to see Perez’ expression.

“Aye, I’m her dad and I always will be. But Fran wants her to know her father, too.” Perez had paused briefly. “I’m against it, personally, if you must know. It seems a risk too great to take. You’ve disappointed her before. But…even so, it’s no’ about what I want, it’s about what Fran wants, and what Cassie needs. I’ve come all the way here to ask you again to do as Fran asks. We want you there. And me too. I want you there for Cassie.” By the end of this, Duncan had been looking at Perez, and had seen the sincerity behind the words.

Perez had leaned forward. “Listen well, though. I’m going to need you to not come if you mean never to come again. Cassie doesnae need that, and I will no’ let you fret her. Do you understand?”

He had, of course. And he’d looked around the pub just to avoid the intensity in Perez’ eyes. He’d known probably half the people in the room that day, but none of them had approached the table while Perez had been there. He had that effect on people. He was about as opposite to Duncan himself as a man could be. He was focused, self-disciplined, merciless when need called for it. But, Duncan had to admit, he was fair.

Perez had sat back in his chair and his expression had softened when Duncan looked around. “Well, and you might as well know now that Fran’s parents will be there.”

Oh, great, he had thought, his ex-in-laws, who had never liked him in the first place. “It will be some party, if I come.”

“That is your reputation, no doubt.” Perez had pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’ve got to go.” He had seemed to hesitate for a moment, shifting weight on his feet. “I do hope you’ll come. We won’t promise Cassie, but…well, it would do her good. And…maybe you, too.” He had nodded once and left. 

Standing in Glasgow on the last day of December, Duncan remembered very clearly how he had decided to not go to Glasgow. Let it be a clean break, he’d thought. Cassie would forget him and at least he wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. It was all for the better, wasn’t it? But he’d never be the equal of Jimmy Perez when it came to self-discipline or self-denial. The fact was, he wanted to see Cassie. He had never wanted to be a father—was scared of it, truth to tell—but he’d loved Cassie from the start, even as he and Fran were going through the divorce. Love and him…it always seemed to wind up leading to disappointment. He’d loved Fran, but that hadn’t stopped him from messing up his marriage. Still, it was different with a daughter. And so here he was now, as he’d been told to be. Let the future take care of itself, eh?

Like a sign, the bells tolled midnight, and he heard cheering inside. He knocked on the door and it was flung open by Perez and Fran both. “Happy new year,” he called out. “Good tidings to all!” They pulled him inside and Fran kissed him as Perez relieved him of the whisky. 

Duncan was vaguely aware of a number of people in the room, but it was Cassie’s voice he heard as she called his name, and then he found she was still young enough that he could twirl her, to her laughing delight. “What did you bring?” she asked.

“He brought luck and prosperity,” Fran said as she smiled at him, and Duncan remembered why he’d loved her.

“And…this,” Duncan said, pulling the shortbread package from his pocket.

“My favourite! You remembered!” 

The shortbread had been a last minute purchase at the airport, but he remembered _now _it was her favourite. “Of course I did!” He accepted a glass of whisky from Perez and joined with everyone for a toast to the new year and then a slightly off-key version of _Auld Lang Syne_. 

Duncan loved parties, and he enjoyed this one, despite Fran’s parents and the inherent awkwardness of it all. Cassie was filled with the energy of an overtired child and flitted from him to Perez to Fran. Friends came and went—Chris and Alice Brooks, Jerry Markham, and others Duncan vaguely recognised—but the Perez family stayed home that night. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Duncan found himself alone with Jimmy while Fran settled Cassie into bed. Jimmy poured them both a dram of whisky. It had been a revelation to see Jimmy Perez at home. Duncan had never seen the man so relaxed. Fran, too, had about her an air of contentment beyond any he had seen before. He wondered if he ought to be feeling jealous, but he didn’t. He was happy for her. God knew he had made a terrible husband.

“You have a nice home here,” he said as Jimmy sat in a chair across from him.

“Aye.” Jimmy drew the word out. “I do.” He smiled. “And you made it, after all.”

Duncan nodded. “Thank you.” But that seemed a bit too much, so he added: “For the hint about the drainin’ flight—s. And car.” He frowned down at his glass, suddenly remembering he had no plan for after the party. Well, there was always the car, if need be.

“Cassie was happy; didn’t I say she would be?”

Duncan nodded and raised his glass in silent acknowledgement. “This time you were right,” he said, after they’d drunk.

Fran appeared in the doorway. “She’s asleep and I soon will be.” She looked at Duncan. “A bed is made up for you. Jimmy will show you. Good night.” She disappeared on a yawn. 

He should get up, Duncan thought, but he was warm and comfortable and when Jimmy held up the bottle, with a questioning look, he nodded and held out his glass. Jimmy switched off the light and they were left with the dying embers of the fire as they finished the bottle in contented silence. Contentment? Duncan examined the idea and judged it sound. He usually did land on his feet wherever he fell, but this was different. It felt as if…well, almost as if he…belonged. Could that be it? He shook his head, too tired and drunk to do anything other than just accept the feeling. He looked across at the profile of Jimmy Perez, who was staring into the fire. He was the centre of it, Duncan thought. The solid, unshakeable anchor that Fran had tethered herself to, and Cassie as well, in the maelstrom after the divorce. And now Duncan had somehow found his way in as well, with ties he could feel and somehow didn’t resent. Well then, let it be. For this feeling, he’d show up, next year and the year after and the year after that, whisky and shortbread in hand, to welcome the new year.

*

oooOOOooo

*

The year he thought it wouldn’t happen, Duncan nevertheless found himself standing before the closed door to Jimmy’s house in Lerwick. No one had particularly wanted to celebrate Hogmanay that year, but they did want to mark the passing of a terrible year. Duncan felt more than a little guilty because while he mourned Fran and hated to see what her passing had done to Cassie and Jimmy, he couldn’t help but be glad they had moved back to Lerwick. He shifted on his feet, moved the already opened bottle of whisky from one hand to the other, and thought back to that first evening in Lerwick.

“We’re home now,” Jimmy had said when Duncan had found him gazing out over the sea. 

“It’s Shetland. It always calls you back, for good or ill.”

Jimmy had turned his head towards him. “You’re worried about Cassie?”

“Aye. Well, it’s a big change from Glasgow to here, leaving her friends.” He had hesitated a moment. “Losing her mother.”

“She wanted the change.”

“Did she?” He had gathered his courage because it needed to be asked: “Or was it you, Jimmy?” 

Jimmy had shaken his head. “No. No, no, no. If I thought that, we’d still be in Glasgow.” He had paused, looked out over the sea again. “At least, I think that’s true. I willnae deny I wanted to come here, needed the peace of…this.” He had nodded towards the water. “But Cass…. She said she wanted to be away from all that reminded her of Fran, every day. Was it the right thing to do? I dunno.” He had looked again at Duncan, as if he might have an answer.

All he had found to say was: “She will heal here. And you, too.”

Jimmy had looked away. “Maybe.”

And so the new year was upon them and here he stood in front of the door, just as he had every year since the first. Cassie had been adamant that all she wanted was a quiet supper with her family as they waited for the new year. None of the traditional stuff, she had insisted, no parties or people stopping in. Just them for what Duncan privately thought was more of a vigil than Hogmanay. But whatever Cassie wanted was what she’d get this year. He’d told them that Mary was away visiting her mother on Bressey, so it would be just the three of them, which he thought Cassie had been relieved to be told. The truth was that Mary had caught him with Carol, but Cassie and Jimmy needn’t know that. Although he rather suspected Jimmy knew. It was hard to keep such secrets on Shetland. But all Jimmy had said, quietly to him when Cassie’s attention was elsewhere, was that he should be prepared to be first foot.

“She doesnae want any of that,” he had protested. 

Jimmy had just shrugged and given him a look, which had led him to buy the traditional brand of shortbread—a running joke between them now—just in case. And it was as well he had done because at five minutes to midnight Cassie had suddenly jumped up, thrust the whisky bottle into his hand, and bundled him out the door. He had managed to grab his coat during the process, so the shortbread was in its usual place.

The door abruptly opened before him and he walked into the house, calling out: “Happy new year and good tidings to all!”

“Welcome!” Cassie greeted him, taking up Fran’s role. “You bring us luck and prosperity.”

“And drink,” he added, handing the bottle to Jimmy. “And….” He pulled the shortbread package from his pocket. “Food.” 

Cassie stared at him for a moment, then burst into tears and flung herself into Duncan’s arms. Duncan rolled one eye towards Jimmy but saw he was smiling and nodding, so he just hugged Cassie back and silently wished her the best of all new years.

Later, after Cassie had gone to bed, Duncan and Jimmy followed tradition by drinking the rest of the whisky together. As usual, Duncan held his glass up in a salute. “Yes, okay, once again you were right.”

“About what, this time?”

“About Cassie. It’s always Cassie, isnae it?”

Jimmy smiled a little. “I’m glad she wanted to do what Fran started. She needs to discover that it is safe to remember as well as to…go on with her life.”

_And what about you_, Duncan thought as Jimmy stared into space, glass in hand. The grief that Jimmy still suffered was evident on his face, even when he spoke of Cassie. What would it be like to love that strongly, to be so devastated when that love ended? Duncan didn’t envy him, he found the idea of being so consumed frightening. He always kept a part of himself free in his affairs—a form of self-protection that seemed obvious to him. If you didn’t have that, well, then you’d be like Jimmy was now—adrift. The anchor had been pulled into the boat, and there was no one at the helm.

Except for Cassie’s need. That would always keep Jimmy close and grounded, he knew. But what of Jimmy? Duncan had seen Cassie cry, had comforted her more than once, inadequate to the task as he’d felt himself to be. But there was no reaching Jimmy except through Cassie. And if Jimmy had cried, no one had witnessed it.

“We came back to Shetland,” Jimmy spoke suddenly, “to start anew, yes. But also to remember the past. This is where we became a family, and where she was born, and where her father still is.”

Duncan looked at him, astonished that he had been included in the list. 

Jimmy smiled slightly. “Fran changed me, you know. Made me listen to people more than I tended to do and to open my mind to accept some of the choices that they made.”

“You mean, she taught you to be less judgemental.”

“Yes. And to not be on the job all the time, which I admit is hard to do.”

“No!”

“But I do try. And with you, maybe, especially. Don’t think I havnae noticed how much help you’ve been. Fran was right all those years ago when she wanted you to be a part of Cassie’s life—our life—and my life, too.”

Something gripped at Duncan’s heart in a way that was new to him. He didn’t know if he liked it, but he was helpless to stop it. He raised his glass again. “Well, then, to new beginnings, and—” He found he couldn’t get any words out of a suddenly constricted throat.

“To family,” Jimmy finished, and drank.

“To family,” Duncan repeated. And as he drank he vowed, as he never had before in his life, to be there when needed for Cassie, and Jimmy.

*

oooOOOooo

*

The year he was late, Duncan found himself outside Jimmy’s door at about half past two in the morning. Mary thought he’d gone to the loo. He smiled to himself, knowing full well Alex would have told her by now that he’d gone to Jimmy’s. Best to be safe, considering it wasn’t that long ago he’d been exiled from the house for lying. At least she wouldn’t think he was cheating on her. He hadn’t gone to her himself because he’d only thought of it on the spur of the moment. And, well, she’d made her preferences clear: “Cassie’s in Brazil this year,” Mary had said. “So you needn’t go over there. Let Jimmy come to us, and we’ll host the party.” He had thought Jimmy wouldn’t come, though, and he’d been right. With Cassie gone, Jimmy had wrapped himself up in his work, as he had done before he’d met Fran, by all accounts.

Cassie had texted him just after midnight: “Happy New Year. Miss shortbread!” And that had been enough to make him feel a wave of regret. He’d got used to their way of celebrating Hogmanay. Maybe it would have been different if Jimmy could’ve made it work with that Asha woman, but that had died before it had ever really started. Jimmy wasn’t all that great with change, and a new relationship on top of Cassie leaving university to pursue an adventure with her boyfriend in Brazil, well, that was too much, wasn’t it? Duncan had encouraged Jimmy to pursue Asha, just as he’d encouraged Cassie. Go and grab what you want in life. Even if, truth to tell, he hadn’t been all that happy with the big changes in their lives either. He liked co-parenting with Jimmy, despite all the arguments they had.

Which was why he was standing outside in the fucking cold waiting for Jimmy to hurry up and answer the knock at his door. The _second_ knock on his door. And he didn’t know why his heart was pounding as it was, as if he was nervous or something, because it was just Jimmy, and he’d understand, wouldn’t he? They were family, even without Cassie—as Jimmy had proved when he’d taken Duncan in without a word after Mary had kicked him out. Och, it was just that he’d had a wee bit to drink, that was all, and his heart was reacting. Only, when the door opened at last, he knew it wasn’t the drink that was to blame for the sudden lurch in his gut. _Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no_, he thought even as he forced a smile for Jimmy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jimmy asked, and then his expression shifted. “Is it Cass—”

“No,” Duncan said. “It’s just—” He held up the bottle he’d brought with him, concentrated on the moment. “Happy new year! Amn’t I going to be allowed to step inside, then?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Sorry.” Jimmy moved aside and Duncan walked into the house. “It’s just I didnae think— I mean you were hostin’— Is Mary…?” He glanced out the door. “You havnae been booted out again?”

“Everything’s fine,” Duncan said, lying with familiar ease. “But it didnae—” He shrugged. “It’s just not the new year without this, is it? You’ve only yourself to blame, you know.” He walked through to the kitchen.

“My sin will find me out, is that it?” Duncan heard the door close and Jimmy followed him into the kitchen.

“Something like.” Duncan looked away, knowing full well his smile was too nervous. It didn’t help that Jimmy was moving about the kitchen with that loose yet precise walk of his, as if he was always prepared for action. Watching him move hit Duncan like a blow, made him almost breathless. Why in Christ’s name was this happening to him _now_? “Glasses?” he managed to say. He held up the bottle.

Jimmy shook his head but retrieved two glasses and put them on the worktop. Duncan handed him the bottle for his part in the tradition. “Are you all right?” Jimmy asked, with a glance that cut right through Duncan.

“‘Course.” Duncan looked away. “But, ehm, I am just going to use your loo.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Wshht. It’s Hogmanay, Jimmy.” He turned away.

“This is the bottle I gave you for Christmas, isnae it?”

“Ehm, it’s surprisingly very like,” he called back and made his escape to the loo. He stared at himself in the mirror, then splashed cold water on his face. _Ignore it. You’ve been off all night. It’s just a strange feeling for a strange night. Anyway, you have had more than a wee bit to drink_. But he knew his own lies and none of these were convincing him. He’d felt that jolt of desire when he’d first seen Jimmy—that old, familiar jolt that had got him in trouble more than once. Okay, fine, he’d admit to an…inexplicable, _momentary_ infatuation. It wasn’t as if he’d never felt that for a man before. He’d sown his share of wild oats back in the day and had enjoyed it without feeling the need to commit to anything. He’d come back to Shetland and settled into his womanising ways. So it was just his brain playing tricks on him, that was all. He thought about Jimmy as he’d appeared before him tonight, hair tousled, weary-eyed… He gripped the sides of the sink, stared himself in the eye. “Don’t even think it.” Jimmy was his daughter’s dad, for God’s sake. The thought of Cassie worked better than the cold water on his face. Right. He was tired and drunk. It was just a passing thing. _Get a grip, man_.

He walked out of the loo to find Jimmy sitting on the couch, a full glass in hand. Another glass sat on the table near a chair. “I thought you’d got lost—or fell asleep,” Jimmy said.

“Sorry.” 

“No shortbread?”

Duncan threw him a look as he settled into the chair, pleased to find that all he felt was the normal irritation-stroke-fondness for Jimmy that he was used to. “No. No food for you, then, this year. But you will have luck and prosperity.”

“Except I can’t help but notice that my dark-haired stranger is no longer so very dark anymore.”

“Nor such a stranger.”

“Well, you were the first over my threshold, anyroad.” Jimmy held up his glass. “Thank you.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Jimmy looked at him questioningly. “This year, I was the one who was right.”

“About what?”

“Did you or did you not come to my house for Hogmanay as you were invited to do?”

“Well…”

“I told Mary you wouldna come and I was right.” He held up his glass until Jimmy matched the gesture and they both drank.

“Oh, you know me that well, do you?” Jimmy looked amused as he refilled their glasses.

“I called it. Mind you, I told Mary it was because you’ve been working too hard.”

“Which I have been.”

“Aye, but that doesnae explain the bags under your eyes. That big case of yours has been over with for some time now.”

“It’s not like we havnae always got cases to work on.”

Duncan just looked at him. This was something he’d learnt over the years. If you simply waited, Jimmy’s sense of fairness would goad him into revelations.

“Fine.” Jimmy drank more of the whisky. “Well, if you must know, I havnae been sleeping very well. The house is too damn quiet.”

Duncan frowned. “You havnae slept since Cassie went to university?” His voice rose a note at the end of the question. 

“No! Just since you convinced her to seek her fortune in Brazil.”

“I didnae do that.”

“No, I know.” Jimmy sighed. “It’s just she’s so far away. Maybe it’s because of what happened to— Well, just that the world isnae safe.”

“And you want her where you can keep an eye on her. But she’s grown, Jimmy. She has her own life to lead or mess up or make brilliant.”

Jimmy held up his hand. “I know, I know.”

“She worries about you when she’s gone.”

“She shouldnae do that.”

“You raised her too well.”

“Did she not inherit any of your heedlessness?” 

Jimmy asked it with a smile, and Duncan took it in kind, although there was more truth to it than he was comfortable with. “I like to think her sense of adventure comes from me. But you know she will always be rooted here with you, no matter where she is.”

Jimmy raised his glass. “To Cassie, then, and grand adventures.” They drank and then Jimmy asked: “Did you never leave Shetland?”

“Oh aye, a long time ago. I came back—like the bad penny, I suppose.”

“You’ve never talked about that time. Was it wild adventure?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it, sometime.” And again his stomach was tight, and he looked away. “Anyway, another toast. Fill the glasses now.”

“Are you trying to make me drunk, Duncan?”

“I’m trying to relax you, fool. And _next_.” He held up his glass again and waited until Jimmy raised his. “To you _finding_ a great adventure—outside of work.”

“My turn,” Jimmy said then, filling their glasses once again. “To you staying with Mary for a whole, entire year.”

Duncan wanted to object to that on the grounds that he’d done it already, but then he wasn’t completely certain that was true and Jimmy was looking at him too steadily for him to want to question it. Instead, he thought of another toast, and so they traded them back and forth until Duncan’s head was spinning. Jimmy slumped on the couch, exhaustion interfering with his ability to outlast Duncan.

“There,” Duncan said. “There.”

“Wha’?” Jimmy mumbled into the cushion.

“Nothing. You’re just ready now—feet up, eh? That’s…what’s…needed.” He attempted to pick up Jimmy’s legs and push them onto the couch, but he ended up sitting on the floor instead.

“Ya numpty,” Jimmy said, peering at him.

The affectionate tone was nearly his undoing. His voice was gruff when he spoke: “Just, go to sleep, eh? You’re due.”

“Oh?” Jimmy appeared to think this over. “Could do. Not so quiet with you here.” This time, when Duncan attempted to help him stretch out on the couch, he got more cooperation. 

“There now.” Duncan sat with his back against the couch. “Shall I tell you a wee bedtime story? I’ll tell you one my nan used to tell me, long ago. I used to tell it to Cassie, too, now and again.”

“Cass,” Jimmy murmured, but didn’t follow it with anything else.

“It was about an old man living on his own in a croft by the sea with no one to love or to talk with or to eat with. Until one day a beautiful, strange white bird—as white as the untrammelled snow—fell out of a gale and landed near his door. He tended to the bird, gave her food and water and warmth, mended her broken wing. In the spring he set her free, though he knew he would be lonelier still. And then—”

A snore interrupted his tale. Duncan grinned. He leaned back against the couch, and brushed against Jimmy’s arm. “Lonelier still,” he said to himself. Because he realised that he still felt all the desire and longing that had surged in him when Jimmy had opened the door. He was rather afraid it had been inside him, unacknowledged, for a long time. Which meant it wasn’t a fleeting thing like he’d felt many times before. And worse, there was something allied to the lust, something that was more akin to what he felt for Cassie—an overriding tenderness and desire to help and, yes, protect. He nearly laughed at the idea of Jimmy Perez of all people needing protection— And yet— He listened to Jimmy’s steady breathing, the marker of the sleep he needed and yet hadn’t been able to get for himself. Duncan had done that.

Christ, how could he have been so blind all these years? It had crept up on him, he supposed. He’d thought of Jimmy as…part of his family—because of Cassie—but it wasn’t just because of Cassie. He drew in a shuddering breath. Okay, okay, admit it to himself, then, because no one else would ever know. He loved Jimmy bloody Perez, in all his sanctimonious bastardliness. And why? Because Jimmy really was that anchor he’d always thought him. He was deeep-rooted, unwavering protection against the gale. He didn’t turn a blind eye to Duncan’s mistakes, wasn’t shy about telling him what he thought about him—_spineless_, Jimmy had called him, regarding Cassie—but he was also quick to apologise. And when Duncan had turned up at the station, after Mary had thrown him out, Jimmy had taken him in with no words said. Jimmy’s steadfast regard never changed, despite all that Duncan did and had done. And, somehow, he’d found himself wanting to live up to Jimmy’s unspoken expectations. He’d…changed, at least a bit. He’d thought it was the weight of responsibility to Cassie—and certainly that was part of it—but it was Jimmy’s influence as well. 

_Fran changed me_.

He remembered Jimmy’s words from that new year, now years ago. He remembered his own astonishment that anyone would want to love so much, to be so vulnerable. He’d rather thought Jimmy a fool, to be honest, and had pitied him after Fran died. Duncan raised his eyes to the ceiling, fighting a lump in his throat. Well. _My sin will find me out_. Jimmy’s words, but Duncan’s fate, it seemed. And a bleak fate it was because for once in his life he wasn’t going to act on temptation or impulse. For the first time, he would be the one to stay instead of leaving first. Jimmy didn’t need this complication to his life. And Duncan wouldn’t risk what they had, not for anything. But he also couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave. Not while he still had—he moved his head from side to side—this. Family. The trust of a man who would fall asleep beside him. 

Duncan closed his eyes. Sometimes a protector needed protecting, even by someone like him. Sometimes, you needed a double anchor.

*

oooOOOooo

*

This year, Duncan stood outside the door to Jimmy Perez’ home in Lerwick, determined to bring the traditional luck and prosperity into Jimmy’s new year. God knew they could use it, with the opening of the bistro coming so soon. But it had been a rough year all around—the dissolution of his own marriage, his near bankruptcy, and Jimmy’s breakup with Alice Brooks. Jimmy had seemed distant in the last few weeks, not quite himself He had followed through with his promise to be a partner in the bistro, but he had also buried himself in his work. That was never a good sign. And then, while Cassie had come home from university for Christmas, she had gone to Edinburgh for Hogmanay.

“I dunno what Edinburgh has that we havnae,” Jimmy had protested.

“Just a world famous street party, and concerts, and parades, and all my friends from university,” Cassie had said. “I want to show Charlotte what Hogmanay is like.”

“You could bring her here.”

“No, that’s just for us.” Cassie had turned to Duncan “Now, don’t you forget the shortbread this time.”

Duncan had spread his hands. “Would I?”

“Yes,” they both had said with undue emphasis.

So here he sat, shortbread and whisky in hand, waiting once again on the bells and Jimmy. “Take care of Dad,” Cassie had said to him before she’d left. “I’m worried about him.” He had asked Jimmy if anything was wrong, and had got nothing but assurances back that all was well—another sign that something was up. All he could do was wait until Jimmy himself was ready to talk. 

The door opened in front of him. “It’s gone past midnight, you great gowk.”

Duncan blinked, realised the bells were ringing and had been for a wee bit of time. “Well, close the door again, let’s do this properly.” He knocked on the door and swiftly entered, because he’d left his coat off when he’d gone outside and he was chilled through. “Happy new year and glad tidings to all!”

“I didnae think you were ever going to knock,” Jimmy said as he took the whisky from Duncan. He eyed the bottle “I bought you the good stuff this year, didnae I?”

Duncan pushed him towards the kitchen. “Away with you, _I_ bought that yesterday.”

Jimmy smiled then gestured towards the fireplace. “Sit yourself down while I deal with this. Get warmed up.” 

“Me or the whisky?” Duncan settled on the couch. Jimmy brought glasses and the bottle with him, poured the whisky, then sat in an arm chair.

Duncan lifted his glass. “Well, and who’s right this year, then?”

“We’ll get to that later. I’ve got other toasts to make.”

“All right then, to what?”

“First, as always, to Cassie. And you’ll notice I didn’t put up too much of a fuss when she chose to go to Edinburgh.”

Duncan looked at him. “I remember a fuss.”

“No, no, no. Mild in comparison.”

“I’ll grant you that. Okay.” They drank. “What next, then?”

“To our grand opening. And I know you think I haven’t paid any attention, but I have. Just remember I’m a silent partner—emphasis on the silent bit.”

Duncan smiled. “Aye, okay. But you had better be there opening night!”

“I wouldnae miss it. Unless there’s a call out.”

“Death and mayhem. We’ve had more than our fair share of that lately.” But he didn’t want to remind Jimmy of that, so he hurried on to his own toast. “And here’s to you putting up with me after Mary left. Even if it is—how did you put it? ‘Frustrating. Embarrassing. At times excruciating.’”

“Aye, it is that, but it’s to be hoped you’ll get there at the end.” Jimmy smiled and saluted Duncan with his glass. 

They sat for a while, both contemplating the small fire and sipping the whisky. Duncan marvelled at the peace he felt. If anyone had told him years ago that he’d experience such contentment simply sitting with his family before a fire, or that he’d prefer to spend Hogmanay like this, he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Was it age? Had he just simply outgrown the parties? Maybe, but mostly it was the dire influence of Jimmy. This was where he wanted to be, and Jimmy, by some miracle, wanted him to be there, too. 

_Don’t go. Don’t sell to Benson_.

With those words from Jimmy, Duncan had given up on his, admittedly, not very well thought out plan to leave. He’d been at such a low point. His businesses in trouble, his money tied up in the bistro development and the house that Mary took, and Jimmy…. Well, when Jimmy had told him one of his holiday lets had been the site of human trafficking, he’d seen the condemnation in Jimmy’s eyes. And later, on the beach, when he had been drowning his sorrows in drink, Jimmy had hit him with the truth about why his life was as messed up as it was. It was all the fault of his lies, Jimmy had said: Allan, Mary, Cassie. He’d thrown his life away—thrown people away—without ever meaning to. Even Jimmy. He’d said to Jimmy: _Don’t look at me like you don’t believe me. Not again_. It had been, in a way, even worse than when Jimmy had had to arrest him for Lizzie’s murder. He’d lied then to protect himself, and failed spectacularly. This time, he hadn’t lied at all, but it hadn’t mattered. Jimmy had doubted him. And, for the first time, Duncan had understood the truth: that it was the culmination of his lies that had led to the end of the road for him. When he’d awakened on the beach, realised…. Would he have walked into the sea if he hadn’t seen the body? He honestly didn’t know. 

But then, at his lowest ebb, even lower than when he’d been arrested, Jimmy had said two simple words: _I know_. Jimmy _did_ believe him, after all, and that was enough for him to cling to. Jimmy didn’t peddle in lies, nor did he offer false comfort. But Jimmy was also in love with Alice Brooks. So, Duncan had meant to carry through with his plan to leave Shetland, until Jimmy had stopped him by asking him to stay. Jimmy’s need outweighed his own. In Shetland, then, he’d stay, and he had more than a few relationships to mend. No more lies. No more relationships thrown away just to satisfy his own needs. That was what he was trying to do, one day at a time.

Jimmy interrupted his thoughts: “I want to thank you for putting up with me.”

Duncan frowned at him. “I think you have that backwards.”

“Well, you’re the one who calls me a surly bastard, so…. “ Jimmy shrugged. “No, but what I mean is…my job. What you and Cass have both had to put up with. You were none too pleased she was in danger because of it.”

“Neither were you. I know that.” Duncan thought about it. “And she did end up with a boyfriend out of this last deal, so she’s not holding it against you.” He smiled.

“That was no’ my intent.” Jimmy laughed, then shook his head. “It’s something Alice said that has got me to thinking.”

Duncan’s stomach tightened. They’d not talked about Alice. All Duncan knew was that she’d left, and Jimmy had shuttered himself away behind a wall of his own making. “What about?” he asked cautiously.

Jimmy shrugged again, looking oddly helpless. “My job. The costs—” He broke off and suddenly it all fell into place for Duncan. Why hadn’t he realised it before?

“You had to question Alice—because of Chris?” Duncan hoisted himself upright on the couch. “She didn’t like that, I’m thinking.”

“No.” Jimmy laughed a little, without humour. “No, that’s a wee bit of an understatement. I had no choice, but…well, that’s no excuse. I suppose I do have a choice, but—”

“What did Alice say?”

“That I…I believe I need to be apart from the rest of you, because of my job and what it might require of me. I’m afraid she— You should know that, of all people.” There was a vulnerability in Jimmy’s eyes that sliced right through Duncan.

“Ah.” He’d been on the receiving end of Jimmy’s duty and doubt. He felt some sympathy for Alice’s reaction, but he also saw how it had got under Jimmy’s defences. “So, according to her, you’ve not been able to have a relationship since Fran because you cannae get too close to the people of Shetland, is that it?” It was just like Alice to put Jimmy into such a neat, psychological box. That there might be some truth to it didn’t mitigate the anger he felt building in him. 

Jimmy looked down. “Seems so.”

“You havnae pushed Cassie away—or me.”

“Don’t say you didnae feel betrayed when I arrested you.”

“Of course I felt betrayed! That you could believe I’d commit murder—”

“Anyone, _anyone_ can commit murder in the right circumstances.”

“Exactly my point!” Duncan realised he was shouting and lowered his voice. “Exactly.”

Jimmy shook his head. “You’ve lost me. You should be agreeing with Alice, then.”

“No, no.” Duncan felt a wave of tenderness for the bewilderment he sensed in Jimmy. “It’s your connection to us that makes you care so much about all of us here on Shetland. And while you doubted me—for which you had reason, given I had lied to you, admittedly—you also believed me when I told you I didnae murder Lizzie. That policewoman from Glasgow would’ve convicted me on the DNA evidence alone, which is only marginally better than what Drew McColl did to Malone. But you, you kept looking, and you figured out Donna’s involvement. No, no, I’m grateful to you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s not what you said that night on the beach not so many weeks ago.”

“Aye, well, I was feeling sorry for myself, if you must know.”

“I’d’ve never guessed it.” A smile flitted across Jimmy’s face.

“We’ve both said some things we’ve later apologised for. But my point is, you _don’t_ hold yourself apart from the rest of us, and that is what makes you so damn good at your job.”

“It’s…hard.”

“Aye, and that’s the cost for you. You cannae just blindly believe, you know human nature too well. If I had killed Lizzie, you’d’ve put me in prison. And you would have been right to do so.” He drank the rest of the whisky in his glass. “Not that that would have stopped me from being angry with you, of course. Is that why Alice left, then? She thought you couldn’t commit to her because of the job?”

“I dunno. I think so.”

“You did fine with the job and Fran.”

“That was in Glasgow.”

“So what?” Duncan spread his hands. “Why would that make a difference? No, the truth is, Alice was put out that you questioned her _at all_. Which means, simply, she wasn’t the right one for you. There’ll be others, Jimmy.” He reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.

“Aye. About that.”

Duncan glanced up to find Jimmy looking at him, a peculiar expression on his face. “What? You’ve no’ decided to take a vow of celibacy or anything, have you?”

Jimmy ignored that. “Duncan, I’ve got a feeling lately.” He glanced away, then back. “Maybe I’m wrong, but…I dunno. Only I’m not really the best judge….”

“Spit it out, Jimmy.” His stomach felt as if it was tied in a knot. 

“Why are you here, Duncan?” He spoke as if he forced the words out.

Duncan frowned. “Hogma—”

“No, I don’t mean that. I know that. I mean here, in my house, all this time later. You’ve had plenty of time to find a new place, but you havnae—”

“Do you—do you want me to go?” Duncan put his glass down, his mind a whirl of confusion. All he could think was that Jimmy wanted him out of the house—

“No! No, I— Christ, I’m makin’ a mess of this. It’s not my strong suit. Look…” Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. “Look, if I were to ask you if you wanted to share my bed, what would you say?”

Duncan stared at him, bereft of speech. He doubted his vocal cords would even work, if it came to that. He could barely breathe. Treat it like a joke, he thought, they’d have a good laugh about it. He had to protect himself. He opened his mouth to deny everything. But— This was Jimmy Perez, and he’d sworn not to lie to him again. 

_But it will ruin everything!_

_You still can’t lie. Not to him. Not again._

_Shit._

“I…would…say…let’s go.” Duncan looked everywhere except at Jimmy. 

He heard Jimmy exhale. “Oh, thank God for that.”

Duncan rushed into speech. “But it’s just a crazy— It doesnae mean— You don’t need to worry— What?” The words Jimmy had said finally penetrated the fog in his brain.

“It means I’m the one who’s right this year.” Jimmy raised his glass.

Duncan felt a flush of anger, humiliation—until he noticed the tremor in Jimmy’s hand and remembered just how bad Jimmy was at anything remotely resembling new romantic relationships. “Just to be clear. You’re _inviting_ me. To your bed.”

Jimmy lowered his glass. “Ehm…”

“Jesus Christ, Jimmy, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” He laughed, then looked back at Jimmy’s stricken face. “Yes! God help us, but yes.”

Jimmy’s smile seemed tentative. “All right then. All right.”

Duncan stood, walked to Jimmy, took the glass out of his hand, and knelt before him. “I’m going to teach you about the undercurrents in relationships.”

“It might take a long time. A lifetime, really.”

Duncan leaned forward, rested his elbows on Jimmy’s legs, and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, as kisses went, but he felt the fire beneath it. Give it time; give him time. “Well, that’s all right, then,” he said as he broke the kiss.

“I never kissed a man with a beard before.”

“Have you kissed a man before?” He stayed kneeling before Jimmy when he felt Jimmy’s hand grip his shoulder.

“Oh, aye, a long time ago. You?”

“The same.” Duncan looked away, then back. “Why now?”

“I’ll not lie to you, it only occurred to me a wee bit ago. After Alice left, and I realised I didn’t miss her as I thought I would. And then that I was looking forward to talking with you at home about plans for the bistro, or Cassie, or…. Well, it just crept up on me, to be honest. I mean, you’re family, I didnae think beyond that.”

“Aye, why would you?” Duncan leaned back on his heels, but looked down. He rubbed his palm with his fingers.

“Hey. Aside from all I’ve just said…. Well, you know I didnae think well of you when I first married Fran. Then you grew on me.”

“Like a disease.”

Jimmy laughed. “Aye and that’s one reason why—you always make me laugh, even when I’m angry with you.”

“It’s called charm, Jimmy.” He both wanted and didn’t want to hear what Jimmy was saying. It was too much for him to take in, but Jimmy plunged on with his truth.

“But what gets to me, is your…steadfastness. I think that’s the word for it. In your own warped way you’re the most steadfast person I’ve met. You made it to each Hogmanay, you were always there for Cassie, even if you did lie to her. I always knew I could call you for her. You stuck by me even when you felt betrayed. There’s a lot there to love, Duncan.”

This really couldn’t be happening, could it? Duncan bit his lip. “And you knew I felt the same way?”

“I wasnae certain. It’s just…recently, I caught a look….”

“Ah.” Duncan winced. “You being so bad at the undercurrents, I allowed myself to be careless. I mean, if you did catch me looking, you wouldnae understand the full meaning. So, I maybe indulged myself.” He felt a cramp in his legs and eased up to his feet, groaning a bit. “You’re getting yourself an old man, you know.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Jimmy also stood up. “How long, Duncan?”

“Do I have to live? Well—Ow.” Duncan rubbed the spot where Jimmy had hit him. “If you mean that I’ve loved—” He stopped speaking and peered at Jimmy. “It is love, isnae it? Because I’m not in this just for—”

“Oh, and how the tables have turned!” He took Duncan’s hand in his. “Do you really think I’d ask if I didn’t think it would last? You know I havnae got the mental energy to be flirting with everyone like you—”

“Used to do.” Duncan tilted his head and looked Jimmy in the eye.

Jimmy opened his eyes wide. “It’s true it has been a couple of years since I last saw you, well, flirting as you’d call it. I thought it was because of Mary.”

“It was.” Duncan turned away and filled their glasses one more time. This was deserving of a toast. “In the sense that I was trying to make my marriage work.” He laughed a little. “It didnae help it in the end, though. But then, there was you.”

“Mary didnae know—?”

“No. No, of course not.” 

“You kept it a secret from everyone.”

Duncan shrugged, and deflected. “Well, you know me and lies—” He handed a glass to Jimmy.

“No. You were protecting me, protecting our family. You had no way of knowing how I felt. I didnae know how I felt. You stayed, even so.”

Duncan shook his head. “Don’t lose sight that it’s me, Jimmy. I was protecting myself as much as anyone else. And I didnae want to risk what we had. Our family means everything to me.” He raised his glass on the words.

“Aye.” Jimmy drank the whisky, then set his glass down. “I wonder if this means we can expect Scotland in the World—what is it?” He had turned back to Duncan.

Duncan was still clutching his glass. “Cassie.” Doubt seared through him. 

Jimmy took Duncan’s glass away, set it down, then took him in his arms. “Well, she did tell me to look after you; she’s worried about you.”

“She told me the same thing about you!”

“So that’s what we’ll do then. She’ll be fine with that. She’s our daughter, isnae she?” And he kissed Duncan, this time with a heat that stole Duncan’s breath and any sense of protest or worry. After all, he was willingly tethering himself to the safest, strongest anchor in all the world. And here he’d stay.

The End  
December 2019


End file.
